To Amarantha
by Anne Herbold
Summary: A CSI comes to the Vegas lab, coming with her a old friend who just won't stop calling her...and a poetryloving serial killer. Grillows, Sandle, NickOC,and HodgesOC. CHAPTER 4 UP! On Hiatus.
1. Decomp, Goulet, and Rogaine

**To Amarantha**

**Summary: **Things and times have changed at the lab, and a new employee comes to shake things up, REALLY SHAKE THINGS UP. Did I mention there's a serial killer on the loose? Slight Mention of GCR, Sandle, NickOC, HodgesOC. Rated T for language, violence, and some romantic situations. Read and Review Please!

**Disclaimer: **The only thngs I own in this story are the characters I made up.The day I own CSI is the day that every man in the world learns to finally put the toilet seat down, flush and actually wash their hands when they're finished. Also, when William Petersen arrives in my friend Izzy's Christmas stocking.

**Author's Note:** This is my first serious fanfic that actually isnt AU. Be kind please! The story is set after Grissom's retirement, but no worries, readers!- He's gonna be in the story! This story has bits of action, romance, drama, and bits of humor in it. No flamers or haters, please. Please R and R!

**Chapter 1: Decomp, Goulet and Rogaine**

Sharp pains shot through her chest as she covered her sobs through her hands while listening to the man on her cell phone.

"You wanna know why I did it? I'll tell you why...Jealousy, okay? Every time he made you laugh or smile...I could never make you laugh or smile like that, not like him. I hate him, babe, I hate him. You could never love me the way you love him."

"Richard," her voice bitter with tears, " I gave you everything, I loved you..."

" 'Loved'? Heh... already using past-tense, babe, I'm suprised."

"I'm done, Richard, done with you, okay. You're gonna regret it, all of it. I'm gone." A loud sob leaked out of her mouth as she hung up the phone and started packing up all of her belongings.

**xxxx**

Sara Sidle was sporting a grimace as she leant on her car in the dry Nevada heat of the NVLPD parking lot. She couldn't help but be a little pissed off at the world; all of swing shift had other cases to work on, and she was left to work on Grave with Nick's new employee, Max Gundersohn. Whoever this guy was, she thought, he sure as hell took his time.

"I am so sorry I'm late!", Sara turned to see a short young woman, approximately thirty years of age, running up to her. She was about 5'3", with a broad, ample chest and curvy thighs. Granted, her bone structure was not of amazon origins, but it was big boned. her hair was a tightly pinned back honey brown piled high in a marmish bun. Her face consisted of a square jaw, cherub cheeks, almond shaped eyes the same color of her hair and a pixie nose to match. Dressed in a black cotton tank, worn down bootleg jeans and a pair of converse, she sighed, "Stokes wouldn't shut up; God forbid anyone leave during a review over last night's football game!"

Sara's mouth was ajar, "You're Max Gundersohn?"

"Yeah," the girl laughed, "I get those looks a lot. Catherine thought I was a guy too, before she met me. It happens. So, Where are we headed?"

"Nick didn't tell you?"

"Nope, all he said was to 'hook up with Sara on Swing Shift, cuz she's gotta handle a huge ass 419'".

Sara snickered at Max's suprisingly acurate immitation of the head of Grave, Nick Stokes, "Right, anyway, you and I are headed five miles south of Henderson; there's been a double homicide on a ranch."

With Max sitting in passenger and Sara at the wheel, then weren't even ten miles driving when Max asked, "So, when exactly did Dr. Grissom retire from Grave?"

Sara let out a somewhat pained sigh, "God, I dunno, I'm thinking...five years? No, four. Boy, it seems just like yesterday he split us all up," realizing her blunder, she quickly corrected herself, "Ignore me, Max. I just..."

Max smiled sympathetically, "Don't worry about it; I went through the same thing back at Edinburgh. Except my boss got his fat ass canned. Everything got fucked up, people were fired, or transferred to new shifts, the whole shebang. I quit not even two months afterward; it got to be too big of a pain in the ass to deal with."

"Thanks," Sara, already liking Max,continued, "I think it was personal too, you know. Grissom was never good with people...live ones anyway. Let me put it this way; never date an entemologist."

"Too late,"

"You're serious?!"

Max nodded.

Sara's face was already full of disbelief, "Who?"

"Dr. Thomas Falwell; another reason I left Edinburgh. What can I say, his anal retentiveness got to me."

"You've got to be kidding me! Wow...You and I are gonna have a helluva lot to talk about at lunch, Max."

**xxxx**

The two bodies were so mutilated, Det. Sofia Curtis could not tell whether or not they were male or female. Both bodies were bent to form a morbid circle, their heads deprived of hair, gashes and cuts covered both blood-soaked corpses. Sophia was ready to vomit from the sight and its putrid smell when she saw Sarah's car pull up into the driveway. She waved, running quickly over to them to evade the stench.

Both Sarah and Max stepped out of the car, their cases in hand.

"Hey," Sofia gasped for air, "Sorry, coroner's not here yet, but the scene is secure...Ugh, um, bodies are in decomp, couldn't find any signs of identification."

"What about the ranch owners," asked Max, " Have they been notified?"

"The Ranch has been abandoned for about fifty years, at least, by the looks of it."

"Good God, I can smell it all the way from the car! Eeew..." Sarah moaned, pinching her nose.

Max began fishing through her jean pockets, handing the other women nose plugs, "Here. I won't need them; I've to worked with worse decomp." Unflinchingly, she headed towards the crime scene tape laced stable Sophia had previously ran out of. The other two walked much more slowly, lingering along, covering their now-plugged noses in the process.

"Sofia, do you remember the gymbag decomp Nick and I told you about?"

"Yeah? What's it got to do with this one?"

"It was almost impossible for me to work on, cuz of the stench. And yet this one's about ten times worse, and she's _willing _to go in there without _any _protection."

Sophia smirked, "She's nuts."

"I'll say; lets just hope she knows about the lemons."

**xxxx**

It was all too familiar; the missing hair, the patterns of gashes on the bodies' torsos, the scalped heads. Max couldn't help but wonder if it was just a copycat who got his ideas from the BBC News, or...she shook her head, silently reassuring herself that whatever doubts she had she would divulge them to Stokes and Catherine. The decomp was bad, yes, but she had to laugh at Sara's and Sophia's griping; it reminded her of pre-pubescent girls and boys with their cootie paranoia. In fact, the only thing she had found displeasurable about decomp was the bugs; no matter how Thomas had tried to console her, telling her that bugs were simply helping with the cycle of life, it still made her shiver at the thought of disgusting little black things crawling over one's body.

Taking pictures of the bodies and blood pools, something had caught her eye; a long burgundy strand of hair lay across one of the bloody chests. From her case, she took out her tweezers and carefully picked up the hair and put it into an evidence bag. Dark reminders seeped into her mind, memories, so fresh, they cut like a razor. Her cell rang, shaking her from her thoughts.

"Gundersohn. Duke, hey babe." her face lightened up at the sound of the person's voice, then her brows and mouth furrowed in frustration, "No, hon, that's not a very good idea. 'Why?' Because, Duke, you'd end up looking like Robert Goulet, that's 'Why'. No! Bad Dukie, Bad! Put down the hair dye. PUT DOWN THE HAIR DYE!" Max gritted her teeth, seething, "Sweetie, please listen to me, Rogaine good. Hair dye bad. Comprende? ... Don't be offended; I was just trying to say that hair loss treatment is a better alternative than cheap hair dye...ugh..." She continued listening to the other end of the phone, when both Sara and Sofia had finally walked into the stable.

Both snickered, having apparently listened in to Max's conversation with "Duke".

"Who the hell are you talking to?" Sofia asked, trying to hide her giggles.

Sara couldn't help but add, laughing, "He sure sounds ...interesting?"

Ignoring them for the moment, Max continued speaking into the the phone, "I have two of my friends here, who actually agree with me on this one. You want proof? Okay" She held the phone out for the women to speak.

"Don't do it, 'Dukie'! Robert Goulet's overrated!" Sara squealed.

"Yeah, what she said! Burt Reynold's career was ruined in the 90's because of it! Listen to common sense; chicks hate it when guys overdo the 'doo." Chimed Sofia.

Putting the cell back to her ear Max grinned reassuringly, "See, Duke? You've come to your senses, hallelujah! Alright then, I'll call you later, bye." she put her cell back into her pocket, gave a sigh of relief and started taking pictures of the crimescene.

Sara's eyebrows raised and a cheshire grin came to her face, "Friend of yours?"

"Yes, however acute his case of midlife crisis may be." Max looked up at both of them, changing the subject, "Listen, after we're done procesing I need to speak with Stokes and Catherine."

"Why? Can it wait till after lunch?"

"You have to have lunch with us. We're going to Chubby's Pub; they've got the best salad bar," said Sara.

Max nodded reluctantly, "Fine. I'll go. It's just ...this case is reminding me of a few I did back in Edinburgh."

Sophia's voice was wary, "How so?"

"We had a serial killer who was obsessed with hair; all the victims's heads were scalped and their positions were the same as this one...at least that's what I'm getting from first glance. After I talk with Stokes or Catherine, I'll know whether or not to correspond with my guys overseas."

TBC...

* * *

_So? Whadya think? Is it interesting? Should I continue? I would love your guys' reviews, please!_


	2. Porclain Dolls, GCR, and Hodges?

**Chapter 2: Porclain Dolls, GCR, and...Hodges?**

In all my years of living I have found nothing more interesting than watching CSIs scramble about other people's creations, especially mine. The two eldest move warily about, yet they are most involved in their work. The blonde one, I think is not one of them, no, a mere detective loafing about. Ms. Brunette is beautiful, although unconventionally. Porclain; they'd break easily...

The third one catches my eye; secure and confident in her surroundings. She is my favorite, and rightfully has been since my first creation. Oh, those pleasant memories! She has not the beauty of the previous two, but her charm has always sufficed. A fine finish to my collection, I should think. What a grand piece of art I will have. Surely, it will be vastly improved once the final piece is put in place.

He would be jealous, but I ask myself, how can one be full of envy when one is involved in the art itself? But Doctor will be happy. Oh yes, with his encouragement and help, I shall be the best.

**xxxx**

A stroke of luck had interfered with Nick Stokes's life, and he was more than aware of it. He was grateful. If Ecklie had not been fired for an incident with Grissom's antfarm, Grissom's eventual retirement, and Warrick's transfer to Dayshift, Nick would never have head of Grave. He found it all quite surreal, even after five years of being supervisor. Nick loved his new office, it had been Cath's previously; the thought of working in Grissom's was just too damn creepy, too many bad memories would resurface. And the fact that he would get one of Britain's best CSI's to work in his shift was icing on the cake.

His once Hershey's chocolate hair was now peppered with gray, and the laugh lines that existed on his face were more prominent than years before. That lovely smile was still blindingly white and his body was still droolworthy. The only negative thingin Nick's life was his inability to find himself a stable and worthwhile relationship in the past twelve years. He didn't know what it was, but the women of Las Vegas, and even in the remote parts of Nevada, seemed to ignore him, or at the very least, treat him like their gay best friend. It had first started with Sara and Catherine, but as the years crept by every member of the female sex he had known simply brushed him off as "Nicky", "Pookie" or "Hon"; it was revolting at the very least.

Nick had grown to be more solemn following Grissom's sudden departure from the lab. Granted it was not the first time his esteemed mentor had departed from the lab, but its air of finality had stricken the hearts of all that knew and loved Gilbert Grissom. The repercussion left him and his friend Sara Sidle reeling with hurt, even slight derision towards their former teacher and boss. Catherine Grissom, having noticed the new attitude of the lab, then took action in hiring a new CSI. Being only Gundersohn's second day on the job, the outcome of this decision had not come fully into effect.

Now sitting at his desk, Nick contemplated whether or not Gundersohn's working with Sara was such a good idea; at first meeting, he thought Max more of a social butterfly and the mixing of her with the somewhat socially-impaired Sidle might prove disasterous.

However, his doubts came to suprising halt when he heard the giggling of Sara and Max coming down the hallway.

"I'm serious, Sara. Tom _actually_ worships Dr. Grissom; I swear he's got some kind of statue he prays to somewhere. You should've seen his face when I broke up with him and told him I was leaving for Vegas...wait a minute, I think I have the snapshot somewhere in my office...You've got to see it; it is a CLASSIC!"

"God, that's brutal," Nick heard Sara snicker.

"Brutal punishment for the most deserving."

Nick couldn't help but shudder; Manhaters! But Sara wasn't really a manhater, she was too busy smooching Greg Sanders to hate anybody, let alone guys.

The eventual knocking soon came upon his office door, to which he sarcastically replied;

"Come on in , ya damn harpies!"

Both came strolling in, their hair wet, smelling of citrus. Sara stuck her tongue out at him, but Max was the first to vocally reply.

"Smartass,"

He smirked at this, but soon resumed his more serious composure, "You guys are quick; two hours earlier than expected. Did SuperDave come early from his meeting?"

Max looked to Sara, her eyebrows raised, "SuperDave?"

"Coroner."

"Aaahh...okay," then turning to Stokes, " That and we called Willows and Geraldo to get their lazy butts over to the scene; Curtis got sick and had to leave, and we needed the extra help."

"It's your second day of work, Gundersohn, and you're already abusing the rookies, sheesh."

"Like you wouldn't, Nicky?" answered Sara, " We all know how much fun it is to pick on Lindsay, and I was just showing Max a little fun, since Sofia ditched out on lunch."

"Speaking of which," Max began, "How about you, Grissom, Sara and I discuss the case over lunch, since we two were so deprived of it earlier?"

"Fine, but I'll have to check up on Cath..."

"EEEEEKKKKK!!!!!!! MY EYES! MY EYES!" the girlish scream could be heard throughout the lab, sending hairs on end to everyone that heard its wretched noise.

Max cringed, she thought for certain that her ears would bleed from that horrible sound, "What in God's name was that?!"

Nick got up from his desk, "Not again...seventeenth time this week" he mumbled as he hurriedly passed the two women, heading out of his office, towards the screeching disturbance.

Sighing, Sara followed suit, "Come on, we'd better go follow Nick."

"What was that?!"

"Hodges."

**xxxx**

David Hodges lay in fetal position, his eyes, he thought for sure , would go permanently blind. Catherine had gone too far this time, way too far.

"Hodges, get your wimpy ass up from the ground, man."

"Oh thank God you're here, Nick," he gasped, "You have to tell them to stop; it's doing permanent damage on my health."

Sara scoffed, "Honestly, Hodges, do you ever think of knocking on Catherine's door _before_ you come barging into her office? God, I'm starting to think you actually like interrupting them..."

"Well" he got up from the floor, "I shouldn't have to knock, because what she and Grissom are doing in there technically isn't even allowed!"

"Hodges, do me a favor and keep your mouth shut, while I go talk to them, okay?" Nick knocked the office door gently, then entered after a moment.

Max ran up to Sara, "I just met up with Willows; apparently, when she went off to drop off our stuff to Trace, no one was there."

Sara glared menacingly at Hodges, "This is Hodges, Max and he's also the reason why Trace is empty."

Her face was in disbelief, "That's Hodges? He's the reason my ears are still bleeding?"

Hodges couldn't really come up with a snide comment at the moment; he was too busy staring at the new CSI. In the milliseconds of spotting her, he had already decided that he would woo her and make her his life mate. Drool slowly came out of his mouth, as he was now daydreaming about her in a less than innocent light.

"HEY! EXCUSE ME?" Max yelled at him, "ARE YOU AWAKE IN THERE?!"

"Huh? Oh sorry! Umm..I'm David Hodges, " He gave a lusty laugh, "And you are?..."

"Max Gundersohn," she was a tad bit squeamish from the very sight of him.

"May I call you 'Maxine'?" he slithered.

"No, 'Max' shall be sufficient," she turned to Sara for some sympathy, but her friend was too busy looking just as disgusted as she was.

The office door had now opened, and Nick came out, followed by Catherine Grissom and her now-retired husband, Gilbert, both looking quite happy with eachother. Gil Grissom, now in his mid sixties, had lost a significant amount of weight, shaved, and looked quite like the Grissom in the pilot episode in the first season of CSI. Some would even go to such lengths as to say that he looked quite like he did back in 'To Live and Die in L.A.' Catherine, now in her late fifties, looked more ethereal than in previous years. Her hair was that of silver and white, and her beauty had advanced even more so.

"Dr. Grissom," Max beamed, now glad she could redirect her attention on someone else, "What a pleasure to see you again! I see you've lost some weight _and_ shaved! It's nice to see you looking so unlike Kris Kringle. Last time we met, I thought I'd buy you some milk and cookies. Quite handsome, don't you think so, Sara?"

"'Kris Kringle'?" Nick couldn't help but blurt out, "That's awesome!," then quickly covered his mouth, realizing that Catherine's face was turning red.

Sara couldn't really say anything but "uh...", fearing the loss of her job, and Hodges just smirked, as usual.

Gil, his face pale with shock gave a somewhat girlish, "Aahh...Why are you here?" his voice was was filled with dread and fear.

"I work here now, and coincidentally, Dr. Grissom," said Max, " I have your old office to work in. Would you like to see it?"

"No...aahhh...um...I mean, no thank you, Ms. Gundersohn," He straightened up his rumpled shirt, and looked to his wife, "Catherine, honey, I've got to go back to the University...I've...uh...got a class to teach. Goodbye, all." Glancing quickly over to Max, he shuddered, then nearly ran out the building.

Max gave a frustrated sigh, "Well, at least it wasn't as bad as the first time I met him."

"Gundersohn, what the hell was that?" Catherine fumed.

"Honestly, ma'am," she answered, "My theory is that he thinks I'm one of the undead; it's the only thing that fully explains those looks of his."

"Are you serious?" asked Nick.

"Completely. I don't understand him; he was nothing like this when Thomas and I were at the Entomology convention up at London. Then again, Entomologists tend to be calmed by their own kind..."

"You know what? Why don't we all forget about this little episode and get some lunch," said Sara.

"Sounds good, Sara. And Gundersohn," Cath warned, "Stop scaring my husband."

Nick deadpanned, "Sure Cath. We'll just stop by the Catholic Church and see if Father Pepe will do a little exorcism and...Ow! C'mon, that's not fair!" he grabbed his soon to be bruised arm.

Max's fist was still clenched, " Smartass."

Hodges piped in, "I'll drive!"

"No," Max sternly corrected him, "You will stay here and work on our evidence"

"Fine," slowly he walked backed to Trace, thinking of ideas to win over his newest conquest.

**xxxx**

The four of them sat in the old and familiar booth in that old and familiar diner where cigarette smoke filtered the air and truckers filled every other seat.

"So, what you're telling me, is that we may be dealing with a serial killer?" Catherine gently sipped her coffee.

"That or an accomplice," Max finished, "The case that I was in charge of, we found the guy and put him away for life. Everything in today's crimescene was just too familiar to be coincidental; the evidence, the bodies themselves, they all just struck a chord with me."

Nick took a bite out of his pancake, "Couldn't it be a copycat? Or just an over-enthustiastic fan?"

"No way. No copycat or fan could've done this. There was evidence there that wasn't on the media's report."

"Like what?" Sara asked.

"My team never told the media about the missing hairs, the corpses' positions, or thoses gashes on both their torsos."

"I'll get the sherriff to talk to the head of forensics at Edinburgh," said Catherine, "See if they can send us the evidence collected from your old case. I wanna have Hodges compare it to what we have, just to be safe, and make sure we don't have an old serial killer on our hands."

Sara's cell rang as she chewed on her organic whole wheat, low-carb toast -in other words, reader; cardboard. Answering with the cardboard mush still in her mouth, "Sidle...Hodges...okay, great. We'll head over there in approximately thirty minutes. What?! Okay, okay, I'll make sure to tell her that, bye," She turned to her friends, "Hodges is done analyzing the DNA."

"Holy crap!" Milk almost spilled out of Max's nose, "What is he, The Flash?"

"No...Why are you so suprised?"

"Well, DNA usually takes a couple weeks to a month to process."

Cath scoffed, "Not in Vegas, baby."

"But don't worry; we're not nearly as fast as the guys in New York and Miam," said Nick, "Those guys act like they're on frickin' crack when it comes to DNA processing."

"Those guys are more about theories anyway," finished Sara, "Oh and Max, Hodges left something by your office."

"Oh, great," Max's face was tired, "He's gonna be a handful, isn't he?"

"Man," Nick laughed, "You have no idea."


	3. Fingerprints, Snickers, and Tattoos

**Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews guys! I've really appreciated them! Sorry it takes so long to update, but homework tends to keep me occupied. I hope you all like this new chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I'll never own CSI unless Tony Zuiker decides to give me the rights on my birthday!**

**Rated K+ to Teen for language, gore, and random silliness...and some upcoming romance!**

**Chapter 3: Fingerprints, Snickers and Tattoos**

"I ran DNA through Codis; first victim, Candace Scott, aged 25, a registered nurse at Palm Springs. The other vic's DNA wasn't registered, but I can tell you it was a male."

"Thanks, Hodges," said Sara, "Did you happen to process any of the evidence from the crimescene?"

"Hasty, aren't we?"

" 'Yes' or 'No', Hodges," she wasn't very amused.

"Alright, I did manage to get something off of that empty pop bottle..."

"And?..."

"Hold your horses, Sidle, I didn't even finish. You ever hear of dramatic pauses? God.."

"Hodges, I don't give a shit about dramatic pauses. What I do care about is what you found on that bottle. So, spit it out, or I'll have Catherine all over your ass."

He smiled, lost in her last comment, "I found fingerprints. Five of them, along the base. I'm surprised one of your CSIs didn't catch that."

"Did you tape lift them and send the prints to Mandy?"

"Of course, I did; I'm not stupid."

"Only in certain areas, Hodges, " she quipped, "Do you know who dropped the evidence off to Trace?"

"Yeah, it was Willows."

"Thanks, I'm gonna go find Max," she turned to go.

"Hey, Sara?!"

"What now, Hodges?"

He twitched about like a nervous six year old girl, "Do you think I have a chance with her?"

"Who, Max?"

"Yeah."

"Well," she paused, biting her lower lip. _How could she say it without being mean?_, "I'd say you'd have as much a chance with her as Nick has with Christy Turlington."

"Yes!" his face glowed with excess nerdiness.

"Uh...I didn't exactly mean it like that..."

"Oh," he slumped, but was decidedly still determined, "But I still have a chance, though."

"Uh...sure," Sara hurried out of the room as fast as she could, "Bye, Hodges."

"Bye!"

**xxxx**

Max picked up the tiny tinfoil wrapped package with caution. By the feel of it, it had been heated and was already quite mushy. Holding the item like an unwanted pair of dirty men's underwear, she headed into her office.

She tossed it onto her desk, plopped herself into her chair, and took an exhausted sigh. It had been a long day, but she had the feeling that it was going to be a lot longer.

Taking out a pair of tweezers, she began opening the strange package from Hodges. The unmistakable smell of it caused her nose to crinkle back in disgust, and it looked like a steaming pile of ...dog crap.

"Wonderful; he's trying to kill me with a melted Snickers candy bar."

"Snickers?!" she jumped at the inquiring sound of Greg Sanders's voice. Poking his head through the small opening of her office door, he asked again, "Did you just say 'Snickers' ?"

"Sanders?"

"No, 'Snickers'?"

"No, is your name Sanders? Greg Sanders?"

"Why?"

"If it is, I'll give you the Snickers," Max pleaded.

He rushed into her office, his smile reached the corners of his eyes and his voice was reminscent of a ten year old boy, "Gregor Jorgen Sanders!" He shook her hand eagerly.

"Max Gundersohn; now go eat that abomination before the smell permanently contaminates my office," she plugged her nose just as eagerly with one hand, as she shook his with the other.

Greg sat in the chair opposite her desk and heartily ate the melted mess. She watched intently: his eating habits reminded her of an old coonhound she had as a child. Max couldn't help but chuckle; Greg ate so sloppily, his two fingers constantly dipping into the chocolatety mess and brown smudges all over his face.

"Would you like a napkin, Sanders?"

He looked about his surroundings realizing the incredible mess he had already made. Blushing, he said, "Yeah, that'd be great."

Opening one of her desk drawers, she grabbed a WetNap package, handing it to him, "Here."

"Thanks. So," he said, wiping his face and hands, "How's America been treating you?"

"Same as it always has."

"You've lived here before?"

"Born and raised."

"That's interesting," he said, " I wouldn't of guessed it from the Scottish accent."

She laughed at this, "Well, I lived there for eight years, so an accent was bound to grow on me."

"Okay, then what do you have against Snickers?; they're like... the most delicious candybar on the planet!"

"I was almost killed by it," Max answered, her face and voice as serious as can be.

"What?!"

A morbid grin creeped onto her face, " Long story short; Five years ago, my ex-boyfriend bought me a fried candybar on Valentine's Day. Lo and Behold, he forgot to tell me that it was a Snickers Bar. Having eaten the confection, I went into convulsions. Nine hours later, after having my stomach pumped and been given multiple injections, I broke up with my boyfriend in the ER."

Greg looked puzzled, "I still don't get it."

"Peanuts, Sanders. I'm deathly allergic."

"Oh. And peanuts are a main ingredient in Snickers!"

"Bingo."

"Wow, that's a stupid boyfriend."

"Ex-boyfriend," she corrected him, "So, besides Snickers, what else did you come in to see me for?"

"Well," He began, " I wanted to see if you really did have a Scottish accent. Which is, by the way, very sexy."

"Thank you very much, Sanders. That's very kind of you to say," she blushed.

"You're welcome. Also, my girlfriend said you had a kick-ass tattoo, and I was wondering if I could see it."

"Ugh, alright, fine," grumbling, she remembered Sara having complimented her on her tattoo earlier after showering, "Do me a favor and shut my door and close the blinds; the entire lab doesn't deserve a free show."

"Sweet!" Greg jumped from his chair, rushed to the door, closing it and the blinds.

Max got up , her back facing Greg. Lifting up the back of her shirt over her head. On her left shoulder blade was a black and white tattoo of a great blooming Amaryllis, that was given immense detail and intricate work was crafted into its making.

She put her shirt back on and turned to see Greg Sanders's face looking quite awestruck.

"That was so cool."

"Again, thank you for the compliment, Sanders"

"You got anymore tattoos?"

"None that you're allowed to see."

**xxxx**

Sara found Max in her office talking most animately to Greg about some kind of rabid gerbil case she had worked on previously in her past job. Greg sat listening, his chin resting on his hands like the most intent child.

"Max?"

She turned, facing Sara, "Oh, hi! Sorry, Greg and I've been having the most interesting conversation. Haven't we Greg?"

"But what happened to El Capitan and his noble steed, Fransisco?" Greg whined, then noticed his girlfriend staring at him in a most amused manner, so he decided to act like the thirty-nine year old man that he actually was, "Hello, honey. Max and I were just discussing some interesting occurances in some of her past cases..."

"Sure you were, Greg," she grinned; sometimes she just couldn't believe she had such an adorable boyfriend,"Max, coroner's ready for us and I've got some info about our two bodies. So, if you wouldn't mind coming with me to Autopsy?"

"Right!" Max got up from her desk," Nice meeting you , Mr. Sanders. We'll continue our discussion some other time."

"Aww...but I have to know about the zombie bunnies..." He mumbled under his breath.

Sara's eyes brightened, "What was that, Greg?"

"Nothing," he got up as well, and left, bidding the two women adieu.

Sara turned to her partner, "You are so full of crap."

"What?" Max grinned sheepishly, "I'm just excited that someone older than the age of twelve actually believes some of the stuff I actually tell them. Did you see his face? It was very cute. It reminded me of the first time I actually got to sit on Santa's lap at the mall during Christmas time. You've got a very nice beau, he's got a naivte' about him that I find absolutely adorable."

She laughed, "God, you are so weird..."

**xxxx**

"The gashes and cuts on both corpses were incredibly misleading; Actual COD for both bodies was heatstroke." David Phillips told the two CSIs. He started to gag, "God...I hate doing decomp"

"Sorry, Dave."

"It's okay, Sara. It's just...stinky as all hell," he smiled through an old red bandana which he used to cover up his nose and mouth. Walking towards the corpses, he continued, "I wanted to show you two something on the back of your female DB; I washed all the caked on blood off her back and found some sort of message carved onto it. It was done post mortem. I thought you guys might wanna check it out."

Sara walked over to the body, and read aloud;

"Weary lie we down and rest,

_And fan each others panting breast."_

Max ran over to David, "This is not good; Can you do me a favor, Mr. Phillips, and do an X-ray on both bodies, and check for any broken limbs? Oh, Christ, this is not good!"

"What's not good, " Sara asked, her voice concerned, "I mean, besides the fact we've got some cryptic message on the back of our body?"

"It's not a cryptic message, Sara, "Her eyes were filled with urgent intensity, "It's part of a love poem. And our killer's not done completing it."

_tbc_

* * *

_So? Whaddya think? Please let me know! I'd love a review! Please no Flamers or Haters! Oh and Jorgen is pronounced "Your-gen" It's Norwegian so please bear with me! _


	4. Research and Outcomes

**Author's Note: Yay! I finally got this chapter done! I'm sorry guys for the lack of updating lately. I really hate being a high school senior right now--It sucks being so busy! Gar! Anyways, back to the story thingy. Just to warn you, I do pick on Linds. No worries though, she gets treated a lot better soon enough, and realizes her mistakes. I had to make Linds a foil for my character Max somehow! So, I based her on some bigoted girl that goes to my school. That way, she'd really get on my Character's nerves, and everybody elses! Greg gets picked on a little too, but that's only because he's Greg. lol. Also, the first part of the Chapter--just the first paragraph--is in the POV of the Killer, but I had a good feeling you knew that already. You readers are smart cookies, I think, so you'll be able to figure this one out. But in future chapters there will be some nice twists and turns!**

**Rated T for language, gruesomeness, a lovely bit of sandle and grillows, and recycled liquid bat poop---think greg and you're good, people!**

**Disclaimer: I'll never own CSI, but if I did, boy, would the show be awesome, because all the episodes would be written by you guys! Fanfics are the best!**

**Chapter 4: Research and Outcomes**

I mentioned to him my work the other day. He told me that it was exceptional that I should be interested in such things. What a brilliant man, to praise me! I will take him to see my masterpiece. But not yet, it is not finished, but when he comes the finale shall be prepared. I shall research about him; to know him is to love him, but to love him is to mold and use him. What beauty shall be unleashed when I open the doors to his life? What secrets wait to be unearthed from the crevices of his mind?

**xxxx**

Two women sat in the elegant warmth of a nineteenth-century tea-room and its crackling fireplace. The dimly lit room smelled of a time long past and its walls were adorned with Victorian paintings. Both sitting on an elegant sofa, they chatted animatedly whilst sipping tea from antique china.

"This tea is excellent, Madame; pray, what kind is it?" the younger of the two asked.

"Earl Grey," the hostess replied, " I'm surprised you're quite fond of it; Most Americans find it absolutely dreadful."

The younger one smiled, " If you think that is unusual, you'll find my tastes in cuisine absolutely bizarre."

" I find nothing bizarre anymore; In my old line of profession, bizarre was the norm. Although, I must say, you are definitely one of the most interesting people I've ever met."

" 'One?' What about the others?"

"Well," A hint of blush came to the older woman's cheeks, " There was only one other..."

"Who?"

"Doctor Gilbert Grissom, a renowned entomologist."  
"Really?" the young woman's face was shadowed with a feline mischief, "Do tell."

**xxxx**

Lindsay Willows sat in the rather uncomfortable chair in her new supervisor's office. She felt as if she were in some kinky librarian's office; classic literature and writings of Janet Fitch, Ken Kesey, Tom Wolfe, Jim Morrison and other eclectic artists surrounded the walls of Max Gundersohn's office. Almost none of which Lindsay knew; the only book she recognized in this literary prison was Jewel's A Night Without Armor -----she had read it for a high school book report. Posters of the Ramones, Pretenders, The Eagles, The Clash, and The Kinks -----whoever the hell they were, maybe her mom knew, she'd ask later-----hung all over where there wasn't a shelf filled with books.

Humming some awkward tune from the radio, she was filled with an adolescent confidence that should've dissipated in college. She wore a skin-tight red shirt and even tighter pants with heels, that if caught on any other young woman, would not even be considered a person of such an esteemed career. She pulled it off quite well though, having her mother's voluptuous body.

She played with a ring on her pinky finger, and chewed gum obnoxiously; as far as she knew, Gundersohn was off blabbing with Nick or something. She didn't care about being here; this Max was just another guy she could flirt with to get another raise. Maybe he was cute...oooh...she'd have fun with that; Lindsay loved flirting with Geraldo, maybe she could tease them both, cause a little trouble.

"Could you please stop that damned chewing?"

Lindsay jumped from her seat at the voice, "Oh My God! What the hell was that?!"

The chair from behind Gundersohn's desk spinned around, facing her. Max sat in the luxuriously padded, black Dr. Evil Chair -----you know, the one in Austin Powers that was shaped like a hollowed out egg?----- with a really big book, and I mean a _really _big book, in her hands, " 'That' would be me, Ms. Willows."

"You shouldn't be in the new guy's chair or even in his office; You'll probably get fired."

"I am 'the new guy', Willows," said Max, dressed in a vintage Rolling Stones T-Shirt and faded jeans, her hair pinned up in the usual bun, "And I called you into my office to discuss something with you."

Lindsay took a deep breath; she was going to be in deep trouble. How was she supposed to know the short-girl was the new boss? New bosses were hardly ever friendly or didn't seem that way, "Sorry, about that. I..um...just thought you were another Level One CSI like me; I mean, you're really young, and well I just couldn't see you as supervisor that day."

"That's quite all right," she grinned, "Now, I am here to talk to you about the other day when we were at the crime scene together."

"Do I get a raise?"

"No, this about some evidence you collected."

Lindsay jumped from her seat excitedly, her face beamed with recognition," Did I break the case?!"

"No..."

"Well, what is it then?!" she snapped.

Max's smile was reminiscent of Hannibal Lecter's, her voice was cool and creepily calm, "If you'd let me finish, I'll tell you." she paused for a moment waiting for Lindsay to interject, then continued, " Three of your prints were found on a soda bottle you sent to Hodges. Those prints place you at the murder; you wanna explain that to me?"

Lindsay's eyes welled up with tears, her voice a faint and shaky whisper, " I didn't do it...I...I..."

"Then why are your prints there? Surely, you can tell me."

"I ...I didn't wear my gloves..." she started to choke up. _Oh God, she was gonna be fired and her mother would be so disappointed, Oh God._

"Now is not the time to cry and win sympathy points, Willows. You made a mistake; it happens. What I don't understand is why you didn't wear your gloves; all the evidence that you've collected has been compromised. Which is a complete waste now; we really could've used it against the killer," her voice softened, "Would you mind telling me why you didn't wear your gloves?"

Lindsay wiped her eyes and sniffed, "You're gonna find this really stupid..."

Max laughed, "As long as it's plausible, I don't mind stupid excuses. Stupid happens everyday, even the smart ones get stupid sometimes. You're not stupid, just your excuse."

" I forgot to use them, " she sighed, "I was so preoccupied, thinking about..."

"Geraldo?" her supervisor finished, "Why is it the men that always ruin it for us? Willows, you're Level One CSI, no longer a sorority girl; I expect more from you. Don't do this again."

"Okay." Lindsay turned to go.

"I'm not done speaking with you." she warned, "As punishment for your absentmindedness, I'm taking you off the field and putting you in paper work for three weeks. Also, for your snide comment earlier, I'm adding on an extra week of paper work."

"Aww, come on...!"

"Would you like unpaid suspension as well?"

"No..."

"Then go. Grave's got a meeting about the case in a fifteen minutes and I need to prepare for it. It'd best if you went off and did a little paperwork 'till then."

"Fine..."

**xxxx**

His outmost attention was on that yellow tulip. It lay in a turquoise vase he had bought her earlier that week. He could still remember the look on her face when he presented it to her; her robin's egg eyes brightened and a soft sigh could be heard from her lips. Like the flower, her beauty had never seemed to diminish in the over thirty years that he had known her, the last seven of which they had been married.

While he was preoccupied, Catherine stood outside her office door, talking with her daughter Lindsay, or more like scolding her. After a few minutes of bickering, Lindsay left, leaving Catherine to enter her office grumbling.

"God! I can't believe Lindsay; a 3.5 GPA in college and you'd think she'd at least act like she had one at work," she waited for a response form her husband, but silence was all she received.

Sitting down at her desk, she turned to him, "Gil, are you even listening to me? Gil?!"

He looked up from his tulip gazing, "What?"

She shook her head in dismay, " Linds is complaining about Gundersohn, because she gave her four weeks of paperwork for mishandling evidence. I honestly don't know what to do with that girl!"

"Fire her."

"Lindsay?!"

"No, Gundersohn."

She gaped at him, "Excuse me? Just what the hell are talking about, Gil?"

"I don't like her, Cath; she's got this creepiness factor about her."

"She creeps you out? Oh dear God, how could that woman creep you out?!! She's nice, friendly and as far as I can tell a more than competent co-supervisor and CSI."

"Yeah, but," he counteracted, " She's _overly nice_, like Doris Day, and Doris Day creeps me out."

"She's nothing like Doris Day!" Catherine muffled a disgruntled moan through her hands.

Gil rolled his eyes at her, "Well, did Lindsay tell you she was creepy?"

"Only when she asked her things about the crime scene or evidence. Said that Gundersohn reminder her of Anthony Hopkins or something. But, that's besides the point. Supervisors need to instill superiority into their employees, even if it is a little weird. Personally, I'd like to see her do the Tony Hopkins imitation."

Gil sat silently for a moment, contemplating his next move. He smiled at her, " Max Gundersohn is too young and too inexperienced to keep her job here."

"Like hell she is!"

"Cath, " he tried to reason, "She's only been a CSI for approximately five years and you hired her as co-supervisor to Nick!"

"Fourteen."

"Excuse me?"

"Fourteen, Gil, she's been a CSI for fourteen years, since she was sixteen."

"How is that possible? Did you check her background? Confirm that all her past employments were valid and...?!"

"YES, Gil" she sighed, " I did everything I was supposed to do. She is more than qualified to work here. I also pulled a helluva lot of strings to get her to work here! New York and Miami were practically on the edge of kidnapping her, she is _that important _to the world of forensics. Forensics Monthly has an article on her every month. Did you know that?"

He thought hard on this one, trying to come up with a decent excuse to give her, "...no...I've been too busy teaching at the university, remember?"

She smiled with sweet victory, "Right, sure you were, Gil. Got anymore opinions about my newbie?"

"Umm...She's too strict and she's a threat to the male workers here."

Catherine laughed, "I'll start worrying about her disciplinary actions when she gets the whip out, okay? And unless she forms some kind of harem involving more than just the male lab techs, then I'll set her straight. Is that good enough for you, Mr. Worrypants?"

"No, it's not! I saw Nick stare at her chest the other day, how's that for you, Catherine? Did I mention Greg told me that she showed him her 'tattoo'?"

"It's a tattoo not her panties. I've seen it, it's on her back. As for Nicky, I'm pretty sure he's gay."

"Gay? Nicky gay? My dear, your gaydar is off by hundreds of miles. Nick is not gay, merely going through a decade-long drypatch."

"Gil, the man solely chooses his own wardrobe from what he watches on 'What Not To Wear' with those Clinton and Stacy people. Did I mention he plucks his own eyebrows AND has his chest waxed? I wouldn't be surprised in the least if he got facials!"

He shook his head, "All I'm saying, honey, is that I don't like that Gundersohn girl. I have this gut feeling about her."

"Well, if you just took some Metamucil, I'm sure any negative 'gut feelings' towards her will go away, " she smirked.

His cell went off, picking it up, he replied, "Dr. Grissom. Audrey? Hi! No, I'm not busy. I'll come right over. See you there."

Catherine's eyebrow raised, " 'Audrey'?"

"A student of mine."

"That's funny; you've never called any of your students by their first names." she said suspiciously.

"That's because she's...special. Listen, I gotta go sweetie, 'kay?" he kissed her softly on the lips and headed out the door.

Closing her eyes tightly, she exhaled deeply, _Oh shit, I hope this isn't what I think this is. _

**xxxx**

Sara, Greg, Geraldo Rivera-Ortega ---a CSI Level One that looked as if he could be Ricky Martin's little brother, so yes, he was hot---, and Lindsay all sat together at the meeting room table.

"What is taking them so long?" whined Lindsay, her manicured red nails drummed loudly against the table top.

"Linds, " Greg said, " It's not even been five minutes. Besides, aren't you supposed to be doing paperwork?"

"Not during a meeting I don't have to," she smirked.

Sara leaned back towards the doorway, intent on listening, "Guys, shush! I think I hear Max." Silence covered the room as all four CSIs leaned back in their chairs, trying to discern the conversation Max was having down along the hallway;

"No, sweetie, that's not a good idea. Well, because you've had enough already. I know it's addicting, but you need to know there is a limit. You can distribute and sell the rest, okay? Talk to you later, bye Duke."

" I knew it!" Greg proclaimed, "Duke's a Colombian druglord dragqueen!"

The others stared in perplexity at their friend, "I worry about you, Greg. Really, I do, " his girlfriend frowned.

"I'm serious, Sar, " he replied, " How else does it explain the funny accent and phonesex in some foreign language?"

Sara's brow furrowed deep in frustration, "Greg, how do you know it's phone sex?"

"Easy, she giggles a lot on the phone, And I hear high-pitched noises on the other end of it"

Geraldo snickered at this, "Dude, you need to stop drinking so much coffee; the caffiene's going to your head."

"Well, " said Lindsay, "I think she's a lesbian."

Sara shot her a disconcerting glance, "Why is it that whenever you don't like someone, you declare them gay or a lesbian? That's very mean and depreciating of you."

"I'm not being mean, " she protested, "Think of it this way; if she is gay, she and Stokes can hang out together."

"Lindsay! I can't believe you...God...I'm so glad Max took you off the field. The less you offend people, the better," the other woman retorted.

The young woman's face began to turn crimson, but Geraldo intervened;

"You know what's so great about you staying in the crimelab, babe?'

Lindsay's tiny fists unfurled, "What's that, Geraldo?"

"You and me get to be to together more, " he whispered in her ear, causing her to lessen her crimson visage to a blushing pink.

"Gee, I never thought of that, " she giggled, sliding her thin arm about his waist as they slid closer together.

Sara leaned towards Greg and whispered nonchalantly in his ear, "I'm so glad were not that obvious about our relationship."

"I dunno, Sara," he grinned roguishly, "This whole whispering thing is turning me on." Placing his hand on her thigh, he purred gently into her ear.

Sara turned pink and slapped his offending hand lightly, "Stop that, Nick's coming, and you know how emotional he gets when he sees couple-like behavior!"

" 'Couple-like behavior?' " his voice overly dreamy, "Does that mean no snuggling, no holding hands nor kissing? No making sweet, sweet love in your office until the break of dawn...Gasp! My heart doth breaketh, sweetums!"

Her cheeks were now the color of a maraschino cherry as he started to nibble on her ear. Lindsay and Geraldo glanced towards them, their eyes in horror.

"Old people are so gross!" Lindsay shrilled.

"Tell me about it. I hope I die before I get old," he complied.

"Ah, youth; immaturity and lack of wisdom at its best, " Nick walked in grumbling with a large mug of coffee in his hands. Dressed in worn out blue jeans and an olive hooded sweatshirt, he blew off the steam rising from his mug gently in one hand, and ran the other through his salt and pepper hair.Looking up from his cup of coffee to the sight of a blushing Sara and a cavalier Greg, he frowned, "You know Greggo, I was going to tell you how awesome your coffee was today, but seeing you like this has caused me to want to regurgitate my last meal.

The forementioned cavalier stopped dead still, and looked up to his friend with doe-like eyes, "Huh? I didn't make coffee today, man. "

Nick's eyes widened in curiousity, "You, Gregor Sanders, _did not _make this most scrumptious cup of caffiene? Wow. That's kinda scary."

"No, he didn't, but I did." a familiar voice rang into the room. Max came in with a large pile of papers in one arm and coffee thermos in another. She waved and smiled at Greg and Sara, nodded at Geraldo and Lindsay. Turning to Nick, she said, "Are you disapointed by my barista like skills?"

"No, actually, I'm impressed. What kind is it?" he asked.

"Ethiopian Harrar; I don't like the idea of sipping on recycled Hawaiian bat poop. I like my coffee with some body to it, withouth ripping my stomach to pieces."

Greg frowned at this, "Are you saying you don't like my coffee?"

She put the large pile of papers on the table, and took a satisfactory gulp out of her thermos, "To put it quite simply; Yes. But that doesn't mean I don't like you, I like you very much, Sanders. Does that make you feel better?"

He crossed his arms, "Kinda." he looked to Sara, "Honey, do you like my coffee?"

Sara's eyes darted across the room uneasily, "Ummm...I'm gonna hafta plead the fifth on this one."

"C'mon! Grissom always liked my coffee!"

Nick smirked, "Greg, Grissom doesn't work here now, so we don't have to pretend to like your coffee anymore, okay?"

Greg simpered,"You guys suck."

"Sanders," asked Max, "Why are you here during a meeting?"

"I'm on the case now, my silly Scottish friend; Nick and I finished the B and E yesterday."

She looked flustered, " Again, I simply don't understand how they get things done so fast here in Vegas. It's puzzling, really," Max looked around the room briefly, " Where's Catherine?"

Nick perked up, "Oh yeah, I was supposed to tell you that Catherine's still on hold with your guys back in Britain on sending the evidence and reports from your old case back there. Also, your old boss told you not to divulge anything from the old case yet; it's against protocol."

"Did Catherine say when the stuff would come in the mail?"

"A couple days."

She sighed, "Dammit...Oh well, we'll have the meeting some other time then. Sara, are you still coming with me to see the identified victim's parents?"

"No, I've got some evidence still to process from the crimescene. Greg and Nick'll be there with you though. Sorry, Max."

"That's quite alright," Max nodded, then turned to address Lindsay, "Willows?"

"Yeah?" the young woman looked up dreamy-like from Geraldo.

"Do you see that pile of papers on the other end of the table?"

"Yes..."

"That's for you to fill out."

Lindsay whimpered under her breath, " I hate you...Maximus Bitchimus!"

"What was that, Willows?"

"Nothing."

"It better be nothing," Max looked at Nick, "Are we ready to head over to the crimescene, then?"

"I'm ready when you are," He replied, "Greg?"

Greg was no longer in his seat but by the coffee percalator, filling his own cup up with Gundersohn's brew, "Man, this shit better be good or I'm gonna be so pissed off..."

**xxxx**

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_So what do ya think? Isn't that Audrey girl a little suspicious sounding? Ooohhh! The drama! Please read and review!_


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